Accusation
by instamatical
Summary: Eventually AO. Loss never happened. After becoming a victim herself, Alex turns to the one person she knows she can trust.
1. Martini

**A/N: This is my first AO fic, so bear with me, please! That, and I really, really, really appreciate reviews or messages, whether you like my story or not. I put a lot of effort into everything I do, and I'd really like to know what people think.**

Alex realized that she was giggling uncontrollably. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten this drunk and slowly realized why. One martini and the elegant and refined Alexandra Cabot was reduced to nothing short of a blubbering idiot. Alex glanced down at her watch and was amused, albeit alarmed, to find that she suddenly couldn't tell time. She turned around, searching for her date. Trevor was nowhere to be found. The loathe of Alex's life, Trevor Langan, had just won his first major case after making partner at one of New York's most prestigious law firms. As much as Alex had wanted to say no when he'd called to ask her to join him at the party being thrown by his firm, Trevor had sounded so excited that even she couldn't ruin his big night. By this time, though, Alex regretted agreeing to join him and wanted nothing more than to leave.

"There's my beautiful blonde," Trevor said as he appeared behind Alex, sliding his hand around her waist.

"I'm hardly YOURS," Alex corrected as she turned to face him, surprised by how tall he was. She blinked repeatedly as she tried to focus, only mildly surprised to find that she was almost unable to. Alex tried to pull away as Trevor's grip on her tightened.

"Alex, you're in no shape to drive home like this," he said mildly.

"Whoever said I was driving? I don't even own a car! I'll…" Alex stammered, unsure where she had been headed with the thought.

"You're not walking, and I don't even trust you to take a cab. I'll take you home myself," Trevor interrupted before Alex could compose her thoughts. She did realize that she was in no shape to venture home on her own, and reluctantly agreed to let Trevor take her home.

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"Trevor, my apartment is the other way…" Alex trailed off as the car inched along in the ever-present downtown Manhattan traffic. Trevor said nothing, his eyes dead-set on the road in front of him. Alex's dread and fear only heightened when, after driving for a few minutes, Trevor maneuvered the car into an alley.

Suddenly Alex's head became clearer. "Let me out, NOW," she said, her voice steely. As she fumbled with the door handle, out of the corner of her eye Alex could see Trevor slide his hand up the driver's side door control panel, and then she heard the locks click.

"Word around the water cooler is that everyone's favorite ADA is a dyke," Trevor hissed. Alex recoiled as though she'd been slapped.

"I came to your defense though," he continued as he moved on top of her. "Besides, one night with me will have your mind changed anyway."

"NO!" Alex screamed as his face inched closer and closer to hers. His fingers moved toward the zipper of her dress. She fought back as his mouth covered her own. Alex bit down as Trevor's tongue parted her lips; he slapped her, undeterred. The coppery, sickening taste of blood permeated Alex's senses, though she was unsure whose it was. Alex could feel Trevor's hand sliding up her thigh, and panic overwhelmed her. She screamed, begging and pleading for him to stop, while she clawed at his face and tried to push his body off of her own.

Alex quickly realized that her resistance only made things worse, though her body remained stiff as she continued to whisper "no" as tears rolled down her face.

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As soon as it was over, Alex grabbed her coat and purse and started running. She hadn't gotten far when her foot slipped out of her stiletto, leaving her sprawled on the sidewalk, with the contents of her black silk clutch scattered on the stained concrete. Alex's palms and knees were scraped and bleeding as she picked up her wallet. She searched frantically for her cell phone, only giving up when she saw someone towards her on the sidewalk.

Alex choked back tears as she stood up and continued running. It was well past midnight, and the fluorescent lights of a 24-hour pharmacy spilled out onto the sidewalk ahead. She pulled the doors open, her palms leaving smears of blood on the door handles, and was hit by a wall of warm air. Immediately to her left was the customer service desk, which was manned solely by a young woman completely engrossed in a magazine.

"Excuse me?" Alex began. "I need to use your phone."

The girl looked up. "Sorry chica," she said, "no can do. But we got phone cards and there's a payphone a couple blocks down."

Alex flipped her wallet open to reveal her city ID. "Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot, Manhattan Special Victims Unit. I need to use your phone." A look of shock appeared on the young woman's face as she handed over the phone.

Alex stared down, wracking her brain for who she should call. She couldn't call 911, it would only attract unnecessary attention. She wiped her palms on her coat and dialed the only number that she remembered, the only one that made sense.

"Detective Benson? It's ADA Cabot. I'm sorry to wake you, but…" Alex bit her lip before continuing. "You're the only one I can trust, Olivia. I need your help. I…I was raped."


	2. NonCompliance

**A/N: So, I'm pretty sure you all either: a) hate me, or b) have completely forgotten this fic and have only returned because you got a little notifier in your inbox or something. And for that, I sincerely apologize. I didn't realize it had been over a year since I posted the first chapter of this fic until about two days ago, so I got to work continuing. As always, feedback and constructive criticizm are always appreciated. **

Lights flashed red and blue from atop a police cruiser as it pulled up to join the three other squad cars at the block-long crime scene. Alex sat wrapped in a blanket on a gurney in the back of an ambulance. She watched silently as everything seemed to crumble around her. There were people everywhere; Alex's cheeks burned with embarrassment every time someone looked at her.

"She's a big girl, she doesn't need a ride-along. You can meet us in the ER at St. Vincent's." Alex only caught the tail end of Detective Benson's argument with the paramedic. She pulled the blanket tighter as the overweight man hoisted himself into the back of the ambulance. Her eyes met with Olivia's for a split second before the doors swung shut and the ambulance was in motion. Alex craned her neck to see out the back windows, only to be blinded by headlights as they turned onto another road.

**********

Detective Olivia Benson dragged her palms over her eyes and down her cheeks as she watched the ambulance drive away. She crossed the street, stepping over a police barricade, and yelled for her partner, Detective Elliot Stabler. "Hey, El, I'm meeting the vi--Cabot at St. Vincent's. Did you get a statement from the register girl?" Elliot nodded briefly before turning his attention back to the cup of coffee he'd been nursing for the past half hour. He watched as lights flicked off in the windows of the surrounding buildings. For those people, the night was ending. For everyone on the street below, it had only just begun.

**********

"Is there anyone we can call?" The nurse's tone was sickeningly sweet, and combined with the pitying look in her eyes it was enough to make Alex want to vomit.

"No," Alex barked, "there isn't. In fact, I'd appreciate it if you'd just get a doctor in here, get the rape kit started, and leave me alone." The nurse's face immediately hardened, and she nearly collided with an older man in a white lab coat who was coming through the door.

"I'd prefer a female doctor," Alex said calmly as she shifted uncomfortably on the table.

"Ms…" the doctor glanced down at the chart in his hand, "…Cabot, I assure you, I've done this before. You can trust me."

The scared, introverted woman in the exam room was suddenly replaced with a livid, seething creature. "I can 'trust you?!' You've 'done this before?!' That is NOT the issue here. I don't care if you do a rape kit twice a day, every day; I am NOT comfortable with you doing mine. Find me a FEMALE doctor, and expect your superiors to hear about this." Alex lay back on the table and crossed her arms awkwardly. She felt uncomfortable, exposed, and wanted nothing more than to rewind her life and reject the invitation to Langan's party, that bastard.

"Legally, you can't do a rape kit without the consent of the patient or, if necessary, her legal guardian. Since you don't have her consent, I suggest you step outside, doctor." Olivia's voice was stone cold, and everyone paid it attention. The doctor turned to her and sneered.

"And who are you?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Detective Olivia Benson, Manhattan SVU. Now, doctor, I'm going to ask you again to step outside and find Ms. Cabot a female doctor." The doctor, realizing that he had lost, left the room, muttering under his breath every step of the way.

"Thank you, Detective," Alex sighed as stared at her bloodied palms.

"Olivia, please."

"Olivia." Alex mustered up a small smile for the woman who had essentially rescued her.

"If you'd like, I can take—" Olivia was interrupted by Alex, who already knew what was coming.

"Please, Olivia," Alex looked up as she pronounced the name, "can we take this one step at a time? I promise to cooperate later. You have my word." Olivia couldn't respond. She didn't know what to say. Normally victims were in so much shock that they could barely remember their own names, let alone the details of their attacks. Alex was so…methodical, procedural about everything that Olivia couldn't help but think it was a result of her profession. Both she and Alex saw this scenario day in and day out, but it was different, very different, when the victim was her coworker, her friend.


End file.
